


Follow Me Down

by CynthiaCrescent



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynthiaCrescent/pseuds/CynthiaCrescent
Summary: A defender of justice is only as virtuous as her detachment, and that is a poor guarantee.





	1. Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "Reflections". There'll be no attempt to compromise with Blizzard canon henceforth, so don't point out inconsistencies with recent releases.

“You can’t save everyone.”

His left eye rolled to the side, looking for the right one which wasn’t there. She touched his face, but could only feel the scalding, burnt skin. His lips curled into a pained smile, only half the muscles working. It contorted until she could no longer bear its haunting aura. Presently, it froze, in time, space, and within her: the limp body of the forgotten soldier, ravaged and battered by war and time.

“Lieutenant.”

She awoke in cold sweat, an unfamiliar hand on her shoulder.

“Yes? What is it?” 

“Are you alright?” A woman’s voice. “You were squirming in your sleep.”

“I’m fine. Sorry for troubling you.”

Fareeha watched as the woman returned to her group at the back of the bus. Sighing, she sank into her seat. Eleven in the evening. She hadn’t planned to fall asleep so carelessly, but the dullness of the ride got the better of her. It’s not often that Helix Security International would send her on an escort mission such as this, for her track record regarding people skills were poor at best. She wasn’t going to turn down a shot at a promotion, however. 

Fareeha took this for a time as good as any to check on the cargo. This was hour tenth of the fifteen-hour drive to Beirut, and as far as she could tell the sturdy metal crates full of lab equipment had yet to budge, let alone dislocated. Turning to the front of the bus, an array of automated controls beeped and flashed. The bus was driving itself, as she had remembered, but bothered by it nonetheless. The scientists group, whose safety she had to guarantee, seemed completely unfazed by this fact, however.

Settling back down, Fareeha inspected the Raptora Mark VI situated nearby. While an excellent companion in battle, the azure suit of chrome and cold iron proved a poor communicator in times of tedium. The other three passengers - two men and the woman from before, all researchers of some kind - on this vehicle seemed to be adequately occupied amongst themselves, talking about what she could only guess to be biology, of a sort. Their conversations weren’t for her to join, that much was obvious.  
In this moment of isolation, she wondered why it was her, and her alone, to be sent on this mission. What sort of opposition were the chairman expecting to send the Security Chief so far away from home base? She had plenty of faith in the corporation, but even more questions. Last night she was out having a wonderful Christmas dinner, tonight she’s out on the dirt road. At the very least she would make it back to celebrate New Year’s Eve with her team, who were undoubtedly awaiting her return.

That set Fareeha at ease. She peered outside the one-way window, and saw little but the conspicuous overwhelming darkness this side of the mountain. The map in front informed that she was in the Tafilah Governorate, somewhere in Jordan. The road continued to curve under the pale moonlight, as the vehicle rumbled onward. 

She craned an eyebrow.

A closer examination of the map revealed nothing but straight lines, yet she was sure the bus was hedging leftward ever so slightly every other second or so. This was, of course, reflective of the road on which it ran, and not the one she was seeing on screen.  
If there ever was a time for gut feeling. 

Fareeha walked toward the end of the bus, behind the crates, to get to the bathroom. She stared at the mirror. The face of a nervous, dark haired girl stared back at her. The Eye of Horus pierced hesitation, as she began to formulate her plan. She had a concealed and loaded pistol by her hip. The Raptora suit and her other weapon was stranded at the front, and she had no means of getting to them without causing panic, or suspicion, not that using them in this enclosed space was advisable either way. It was safe enough to assume whoever capable of taking control of the vehicle would have tapped into the camera as well. She preferred not to cause distress amongst the other passengers, but feared its inevitability. The first priority was to get them to safety, and the second was to recover the equipment as best as she could. Wrestling back control of this bus was the best solution, but one she had no means to achieve. If they were to abandon it, it would be nigh impossible to preserve the cargo.

Fareeha returned to the aisle. Further observation proved that there was a deviation, minute but significant, in the course this vehicle was taking. She had to assume that the entire operation was compromised, and her only worry was to get everyone to safety. Walking toward the front console, she groaned at the vast array of practically arcane controls that populated the dashboard. It was then she noticed the scenery outside the window shifting. They were picking up speed, and she had little time left.

“Husani,” she called to one of the scientists, but everyone turned to stare at her.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” He answered, rubbing his beard.

“May I have a moment?”

Husani looked around, and obliged. Walking up, he noticed her left palm open, and instinctively put his own upon it. Fareeha enclosed her right hand over his. Her finger ran across his palm, hidden from all outside observations. He didn’t seem to understand at first, but as the message continued, his eyes widened. Presently, he shook his head in defeat, and returned to his seat, notably tense. His silence caused the others to follow suit, looking to the Lieutenant for answers.

Fareeha scanned her surroundings. There were three cameras placed across the bus, watching the dashboard, the front section, and the back section respectively. Without warning, she pulled out her silenced pistol and wrecked the one in the front with a single decisive shot. The other male scientist was about to react, but Husani restrained him. Seeing his serious expression, they all remained silent. Fareeha proceeded to shoot out the camera looming over her own seat as well. Rushing, she grabbed her Raptora Mark VI and put on the upper half, without the helmet before returning to the console. Her rocket-enhanced metal fists smashed the machinery to pieces, causing the bus to kick into emergency mode and grind to a screeching halt. Husani grabbed his colleagues and made straight to the exit further up, where Fareeha tore the doors open. Red flashing lights befell the enclosed space, as metal walls erected out of the ground and sectioned off the bus. Try as she might, Fareeha could not get to the rest of her suit nor her grenade launcher. Hearing sounds of rolling tires in the distance, she had to abandon them.

“Run!” she ordered.

The four scrambled to cover behind large, tattered trees, under the concealment of night, and waited. There was nowhere to run to without being spotted by search lights on this open winter-desolated land. The rolling tires were getting closer.

“What’s going on, Lieutenant?” asked the female scientist, cowering with her colleagues at the trunk.

“Our destination was hijacked by an unknown group.” There were no tracebacks, but that was Fareeha’s best guess. “I believe we’re being pursued, and their aim is likely to kidnap you, take our equipment, or both.”

“Are they bandits?” asked Husani.

“No, these people had been after us since we left.” Gun in her hand, she peaked over the sparse foliage. “They are anything but local.”

Presently, four military jeeps collapsed onto the locations of the abandoned bus. Men dressed in bullet-proof vests, overhead red-eyed gas masks, and branding assault weaponry flooded the site. Fareeha noted their insignia, a silver emblem with claw-like marking on their shoulders. They operated coherently, and immediately split up into search parties after determining that the vehicle was devoid of life.

“What do we do now?” asked the woman again, voice trembling.

“Try to see if you can contact Helix,” said Fareeha.

The instant the woman dialled for help, the patrol squads around them picked up a signal, which prompted Fareeha to confiscate the device and crush it post-haste.

“They are intercepting our outgoing signals somehow.” The men in black drew closer. “Turn off everything. This position is no longer secure.”

Before they could even move, a squad veered off the right side, gun-mounted flashlights scouring the very earth. This pincer was surrounding them from every direction, and while the signal didn’t seem to have pin-pointed where they were, this half a mile radius was already a dead zone. It wouldn’t be particularly hard for Fareeha to escape with the jetpack behind her back, but her mission came first.

“Lieutenant?” Husani pleaded for a suggestion.

She could tell he was shaking. No one knew what this mysterious organisation wanted, whether to capture hostages or remove eyewitnesses. There was only one chance.

“Don’t follow,” she said. “Escape when you get the chance. I’ll join you when I can.”

Leaving her companions baffled, Fareeha rose from hiding. Two steps forward, the rocket boosters beneath her wings flared a roaring flame, and propelled her into the heavens. Every laser sight of every rifle in the vicinity was immediately on her. Gun shots lit up the sky, a few bouncing off the Raptora suit. She led the scouting parties toward herself and away from the trembling scientists, taking pot shots with her pistols to draw more attention. The danger was not to be taken lightly, for while her torso was protected, her lowly body and head were wide open. Drifting, she made sure the vicinity was clear for the others to escape.

When the three began to make their way off the hiding place, she knew it was time. Bullets was still flying by her, some close enough to have left burn marks. Fareeha fired a concussive blast from her wrist, knocking several enemies back and impelled herself even higher.

Momentarily, she was alone in the night sky, overtaken by the beauty of the Middle Eastern moon. She closed her eyes to find solace, and took a deep breath. The wings of her suit ignited a crimson exhaust, as Fareeha turned toward the earth below. Its engine growled and span lengthened, the Raptora Mark VI glowed a majestic thermal power. Every vein in its iron seams unbolted at once, revealing the wide array of rockets primed underneath. Fareeha opened her eyes, directly facing the clump of enemies below.  
“Rocket Barrage incoming!”

A salvo of a hundred missiles burst forth from their metal containment and ran rampant on the grounds beneath. Explosions ravaged all formation, causing complete obliteration across the battlefield. The ground itself crackled under the immense pressure, rocking the otherwise untouched vehicles. The bombardment ended when there were no more standing enemies as far as the eye could see. Fareeha was careful to not cause collateral damage to friendlies on the ground, and she could see them on the far end of the horizon, safe. She smiled to herself. Job well done.

A faint sound of zip line was heard followed by a thunderous roar of killing intent.

A warm sensation coursed through her. Flabbergasted, she turned to scout the vicinity, but a sharp pain at her abdomen stopped her efforts, blood gushing out of the fresh wound. It was unclear to her who could have done this without her noticing, but the shot had pierced her lower torso and through the right booster of her suit. Without its sustain, she was falling. Clutching her side, she had no choice but to steer herself away from the site and behind a nearby valley for cover.  
Another bullet.

The second shot missed her head by mere inches, but close enough to scratch her cheeks. Worse yet, it succeeded in taking out her remaining booster. No way to maintain verticality, Fareeha was in free fall, the only thing stopping a total plummet toward the hot sand was the meagre wings then feebly combating gravity. Eventually, she lost control, and teetered off course, and straight down.

The foliage broke most of her fall, but hitting the ground from that height was excruciating nevertheless. She was bleeding from multiple injuries, and unable to move. Fainting would spell her doom, but she could do nothing about the blood loss. Her vision was blank, a messy smear of darkness and crimson. Her sight and senses were but a blur of hazy images and the persistent, throbbing agony within her chest. The icy air caressed her cheeks, as Fareeha could do little but accept fate.

Footsteps approached.

She whimpered in annoyance. A quiet, lonely death was a blessing compared to what would happen when more enemies find her. No doubt these were hostiles closing on her position, readying to riddle her defenceless body with bullets until it could no longer bleed.

“Doctor!” An unfamiliar voice rang in her ear. “Someone’s here. She’s hurt bad.”

More rattling footsteps closed in on her position. A subsequent feeling of weightlessness told her she was being carried away on a stretcher. Through her blood-filled gaze and ghastly perception, she saw a face. It was strangely familiar, brimmed with kindness and worries, feminine in all its features. Blonde tresses fell over its side like the sun.

“Hang in there. It’ll be ok.” A gentle tone of mellifluous beauty filled her with transcendent bliss. It was comforting, luring her to surrender the arduous effort to keep herself awake.


	2. Haunted

The brink of death was a familiar and oddly welcoming sight.

Fareeha stood at the crossroads. There were naught but razed ground and tanks carcasses about her. On this warzone, there was no one in sight. She held a flag pole in her hand, the tricolour red, white, and black symbol of freedom. Trenches circled the earth beneath her feet, and piles of broken weaponry filled them to the brim. She saw no end to these paths, except for a clearing up ahead. Brushing the dirt off her military uniform, she proceeded solemnly to the only destination. With all her might, she planted the flag; the Eagle of Saladin beat its wings. Releasing its base, she saw blood on her hands. She saw blood underneath her shoes. A river of crimson flowed from previously unseen mountains of bodies. Men and women whom she knew, wearing the same uniform as she, lay motionless, limbs draped over the battleground, but only made up the minority of these corpses.

She clutched her stomach. This wound, warm and hospitable, teased enteral slumber. Fareeha closed her eyes. She had been waiting for this day her entire life.

She’d have to wait a little longer.

The blinding sunlight flashed her vision, as Fareeha groaned awake. An attempt to block out the distraction quickly informed her that her arm was not responding to its owner’s wishes. As consciousness slowly returned, so did the searing pain. No longer pumped with adrenaline, the unending agony gripped her by the heart, and pulled on her insides. She could produce nothing but deep and trembling, heated breaths filtered through tautly straining lips.

“You’re awake. How are you?” asked a squeaky male voice nearby.

“Bad.”

“Yes, of course.”

She could not see much, but she heard sounds of pouring water and pills hitting the bottom of a plastic cup, manifested by her lips, whose content she was obliged to drink. The liquid tasted like a fervent burn in her mouth, dissimilar to any pain killer she had taken before. The effect of the medicine took a bit to kick in, but she noticed it the moment her muscles began to relax. A lax wave of sting coursed through her, paving way to an overwhelming numbness from end to end.

“Thank you.” She managed to utter a few more words.

“Do you need anything else?”

“My companions.” The only other thing on her mind. “Two males. One female. White lab coats. Have you seen them?”

“I don’t believe we’ve met anyone like that. I can go check if you’d like.”

“Please.”

Footsteps carried the man outside. All by her lonesome, Fareeha began to check her bodily functions. Her eyes barely opened, and her limbs responded at a glacial pace. Her fingers and toes responded to working order, but retraction of limbs was difficult still. A quick scan revealed this place to be a leather medical tent of sort, with the burning Middle Eastern sun piercing through the entrance. She wanted to leave, but such a task was impossible. The best she could do was to push herself against the bed frame for a better look at her surroundings. Aside from the bed on which she lay, the only other furniture was a plastic chair, presumably where the man from before had sat. It was a mystery what happened to her suit, for she was wearing the same jeans as before, only with more scratches and holes. Her top had been removed, replaced with bandages stretching across her entire upper torso.

“I’m such a mess.”

Presently, sauntering footsteps could be heard approaching her tent. She expected the previous male acquaintance just now, but who she got was anything but.

“I see you’ve woken up.” A concerned smile greeted her.

There was something about that woman. Never mind the fact that Fareeha recognised her on sight, but the surrealist aura that accompanied her was breath-taking. The beige overcoat wrapped around the slim contour lightly shook with every step, and Fareeha found herself unable to detach her gaze. Those golden strands that, so vivid when she was a heartbeat from death just yesterday, tucked themselves to a ponytail. The woman stood by the door, patiently awaiting indulgence of her entry.

“Doctor Zeigler?”

A pause.

“Do I know you?” Angela craned an eyebrow.

“It’s me, Fareeha.” No immediate response. “Fareeha Amari?”

“Oh.” The doctor’s expression softened, as she approached the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. It has been so long. You were so little.”

“And yet you look just the same.” Fareeha smiled back.

“I’m flattered.”

The doctor settled down by the patient’s bed, as a good doctor ought to do. Fareeha waited for a question, medically or otherwise, but the only thing she received were half-stares. It begged the question.

“Is there something wrong, doctor?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited since your mother died.” Those blue eyes were searching. “Things got so hectic that I just wanted to leave. I understand if you are angry with me.”

“No, not at all. It’s been a long time. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Those pale lips curled up into a melancholy smile.

“You remind me of your mother.” A sigh. “Maybe a little too much.”

Fareeha wasn’t sure she liked what was being said.

“She’s gone now, doctor Ziegler. It’s been too many years.”

“Yes, of course. Silly me, this is about your medical condition.” The doctor ran her hand through the rim of her hair. “How are you feeling now?”

“Someone just gave me pain killers, so I’m fine for now. I can hardly move though.”

“Yes, that’s to be expected. You were wounded rather badly, not just from the fall, but apparently gun shots as well.” Angela flipped through her notes, worried.

“It was a rough night.” Fareeha contemplated the secrecy of her mission.

“I’d say; I’m surprised you’re even awake. Truly I expected you to be out for a few days.”

There was some swift jotting down of notes, but not much else. Fareeha eyed the silence with mixed confusion.

“You’re not interested at all in how it happened?” she asked.

“Yes, I am, yes.” An awkward laugh. “It’s very medically relevant after all. Dear me, what was I doing?”

“Are you all right, doctor?”

“I’m fine. It’s been a lot of late nights. Maybe meeting you again was a bit of a shock as well.”

“I see.”

It was not hard to notice the bags under those cerulean eyes, yet Fareeha didn’t take to them until now. It must have been the pills, she thought, lowering her awareness. She gave the doctor a moment to collect herself.

“But that’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through, of course,” said Angela, “tell me what happened.”

“I was on guard duty for a moving cargo for Helix Security International, the nature of the cargo is of course irrelevant.” Angela nodded. “We were ambushed by what I can only assume to be terrorists. Though their affiliation is a mystery for me still.”

“Is that why you were in that combat suit?”

“Yes, I was forced to fight. Where’s my suit now?”

“In storage at the edge of camp.” Angela pointed in a general direction. “It was a miracle we were able to take it off of you. I doubt it’ll function after what happened yesterday.”

“Did you find anyone else? There were a few with me: two males and a female, dressed like lab researchers.”

“I don’t believe we ran into anyone else. I wish I could send out a search party, but we’re understaffed as it is.”

Fareeha would have volunteered herself, if she could move her upper body any more at this point. She could only hope for Husani and the rest of the scientists to have escaped and found shelter. It looked like they had ample opportunity to do so, but they weren’t trained for combat situations. Any number of things could have happened, and most of them very negative.

Sighing, she understood there was nothing she could do for now, aside from trying to recover as quickly as possible. She needed to take her mind off of these unhelpful thoughts.

“Where is this camp, actually? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We’re at the outskirts of Al-Jfar. My colleagues and I are a part of an excursion team tasked with surveying the abandoned cities for potential re-habitation. We ran into a refugee camp here, and agreed to help out in the mean time.”

“We’re all the way down south?” As if this situation couldn’t get any worse, Fareeha thought.

“Yes. How come you did not know?”

“The navigational system in our vehicle was tampered with, and led us off course. My mission been compromised from the start.”

Angela darted her eyes and clutched her clipboard just a little tighter.

“I have to go talk to security. Do you need me for anything else?” said the doctor.

“Am I going to recover?”

“Yes, you’ll be fine if you rest after a while. The brunt of your injuries were already operated upon.” The wonder of modern medicine. “Just don’t forget to take your medication.”

Fareeha nodded, and saw the doctor off.

Left alone with her thoughts, she considered her situation. Last night’s incident was bad news, and discoveries made this morning only made it worse. She touched the bandage wrapped around her abdomen. The sting of gunshot wound send her into a cold sweat. She had been shot plenty of time, but this was different. It was an intense sort of bullet, velocity so large it pierced her armour all the way through, with trajectory so precise it hit a flying vertical target at least a mile away. There was a second shot, she remembered, as she touched her cheek. If it was an inch closer to her head, she’d have lost an eye and likely half of her frontal lobe. This wasn’t a stray spraying of a frightened soldier, but a mark of an assassin, imbued with the intensity of death itself. Fareeha was already exhausted trying to calm herself.

She spoke to no one for the rest of the day. On two occasions, the male attendant from before came by and brought her food, water, and medication. She wanted to thank him, but words didn’t properly form out of her lips. He didn’t seem to mind, however, as he looked like he was just doing his rounds. She didn’t see Angela for the rest of the day.

As the night overtook, Fareeha contemplated the new found silence. She could no longer hear the bustling around the base, as activities must have died down as everyone went to rest. It was then that the litany of doubts and negativities began to gnawed at her consciousness. They had always been there, at the back of her mind, but the longer silence surrounded her the louder they became. Minutes turned to hours, as the rumbling seeds of hatred and anger grew into a relentless thunder, pounding at her thoughts every time her gaze dared to shift. They wrapped around her like a crimson python, choking her slowly from inside. She found herself short of breath.

Fareeha forced herself to blink, and took a deep breath.

Her eyes opened to reveal an entirely different scene. She was no longer in the tent, but back pressed against the dreaded trenches. The rocks of the parapet dug into her back. She took in the scene around: a sea of bodies, all slumped over. They looked real. They were real, at least at some point. It was deadly silent as well. She remembered. She escaped this once. She needed to do it again. Vaulting over the walls, Fareeha charged straight up toward the machine gun nest, hoping to take it over as she did once, and survive off of the vantage point.

A faint zip line sound.

She clutched her side. She had been shot. This didn’t happen before. This couldn’t have happened. Her visions blurred. She couldn’t have died. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to live.

Fareeha bounced off the medical bed, gasping for air. Looking around her, it was the peaceful insides of the tent once again. The moon was high in the sky, as she held her face in her hand. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. Something was wrong. She took therapy for this. These hallucinations shouldn’t be happening so often. They weren’t supposed to be so suffocating, so real. All she could do is sweat in fear. She needed to get herself together, lest her poor heart lunged from her chest the next time she drifted asleep.

She dropped back to bed. Perhaps not sleeping at all until morning was the right move, as slumber promised no recluse. She would ask for some medication for this tomorrow, she told herself. She would find someone to talk to. There might even be a psychologist on site that could fix her again. It was the only remnant of hope she could cling onto. Fareeha sighed, and relaxed her tense muscles, before sinking into the mattress.

A faint zip line sound.

 


	3. Glimpse

Soldiers had ghosts. Soldiers on front lines had haunting ghosts. Fareeha was no different. Squad mates or enemies, their lives circled her thoughts and their deaths weighed upon her shoulders. She saw them, real as day, often enough. They watched her, their eyes intent on imprinting a feeling of guilt, of disappointment, of hatred.

This was no ghost.

Those crimson orbs watched her in the night, sowing a dreaded web which loomed over her consciousness. Fareeha bit her lips. It hurt; she was awake. Those orbs weren’t eyes, she realised. There were too many of them. They drew closer, as the rest of the silhouette came into view. It was of a slim contour, sensuality mixed with danger at every step. It was unmistakably feminine. The stranger lifted a battle rifle, and extended the length of its gun barrel. Fareeha felt the cold metal tapping her temple. What was she to do? This wasn’t a war, and she was a prisoner to her own mind. Any sudden movement and the only thing people will find of her in the morning would be in pieces.

The rifle primed. It emitted a glowing lavender energy, indicating full power. Whoever pointing the gun must know that Fareeha was awake. It was a foolish move to be so close, instead of firing execution style from the entrance, or perhaps even further away judging by the scope capabilities. Nothing made sense. Was she just supposed to lie here and take this bullet to the head?

A loud clack.

“Get away from her.”

The blonde in the lab coat raised a pistol, firmly gripped from back to front. The red eyes turned to her, but she didn’t flinch, only raising her own gun barrel to eye level. The stranger obliged, and presently withdrew into the night, just as quickly as she had come.

“Doctor.” Fareeha found herself able to speak at last.

Angela didn’t reply immediately. Her concerned gaze trailed the path of the silhouette. After checking her surroundings once more, she let down the medical tent’s door.

“Fareeha.” She moved quickly to check on her patient.

“I’m not hurt, doctor.”

“Do you know who that was?” A gravely tone.

“No.” Within Fareeha was guilt. It was difficult for her to say of what she was guilty, however.

Angela unbound bandages to replace them. The younger woman lay there, awaiting further explanations. She didn’t expect her doctor to have any, but her thoughts were too scrambled to focus. She did notice her old wounds no longer aching.

The procedure was finished promptly. Little talking followed, only standing and thinking. Presently, she produced a communicator, and punched the first number on the dial.

“Hello. This is Dr. Ziegler. There’s a hostile presence on site. Please secure the perimeter.”

The briefing was done at that. Angela slumped into the chair by the bedside, sighing.

“Is there something wrong, doctor?”

“I should’ve done that sooner.” The blonde rubbed her temples. “I was shaken, and couldn’t think straight. Someone could’ve gotten hurt during my time diddling about. Thankfully it didn’t happen.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, doctor.”

Fareeha was at odds with her own words. She too was left at a shock by the event, yet there hasn’t been a minute since then that she hasn’t blamed herself for what happened. At the very least, it was comforting to have someone with whom to share the ordeal.

“Fareeha.”

Those words were spoken with a sense of hopeless dejection, slowly trailing off at every syllable, and sent a chill down the younger woman’s spine. She didn’t know how to react, but she must.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I tell you something?” Angela leaned on the cold steel bedside table.

“Yes. I don’t mind.”

Did she?

“I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep. I can barely think straight.” Angela buried her face in her shoulders.

Fareeha was in a daze. Those words sounded like it came out of her own mouth, exactly as she would have said them. She had ghosts. Had the doctor as well?

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

Fareeha could only nod. She should say something. Explain just what she meant. These thoughts were clear, but it took an extraordinary amount of effort to put them into words.

“After I left the force a few years ago, I began to… see things. It’s the same things my comrades see. I’m sure you know what I meant.” Fareeha saw a quick nod. “I took medication for it, of course. It stopped bothering me, until a few days ago.”

“A few days ago? Do you remember how many, exactly?” Angela noticed this singular point of curiosity.

“Ever since I went on this mission, so two days now.”

“Strange.”

Angela sat up straight. She looked drowned in thought. Fareeha, on the other hand, knew not of what to think. She noticed she had been doing that a lot lately. She didn’t use to be like this.

“Doctor?” She decided to speak up first.

“Your timeline matches mine.”

“Yours?”

Angela, even more exhausted, collapsed back down to her chair.

“I’ve been a war doctor for most of my life. I’ve seen things as well. Monstrous things, mostly locked away. They came back, recently, just like yours.”

Listening to those words gave Fareeha a strange sensation. It was one of relatability, of unconditional compassion. She never met someone with whom she could have related so much. She reached out and gently took the doctor’s hand.

“What is it?” Angela was unsure, but she didn’t pull away.

“I have something else to say, if you allow me.” Fareeha spoke slowly.

“Of course.”

“Ever since mother died, I’ve been on my own. I’d like to think I’ve been doing fine, but the last few days convinced me this was not true. I’m afraid this isolation is catching up to me, but I didn’t have anyone who really get it.”

“Fareeha.”

“You’re different, Dr. Ziegler. You knew my mother. You understand what I’m going through. I know we haven’t talked for a long time, but I feel like you’re the one I’ve been looking for. We…”

It was at this point Fareeha realised she has been rambling. She saw Angela, whose slump eyebrows and weary eyes painted a sad expression. Fareeha felt every shred of breath wrung from her lungs. Doubts filled her mind. In this delicate moment of utmost vulnerability, after she finally managed to open up after long years of emotional scars, she feared her efforts rejected.

The doctor’s hand shuddered. She pulled them away, and stood up.

Fareeha could feel herself hyperventilating. Her heart pounded like a piston. She could envision the one person she actually felt a connection to turning around and walking away. This agony was unparalleled, and she half considered jumping out of the bed to clutched on to dear life before her sanity inevitably failed, even if an even greater crash were to follow.

She needed to do no such thing.

Angela wrapped her quaking, slender arms around her staggered patient. It was a gesture to which the Egyptian woman has grown unaccustomed. It ignited inside her a feral reaction, something fierce and primal. A savage flame rioted through her cheeks, as she clumsily returned the tender embrace. It was impossible for her to process this moment. This rapturous feeling urged her to roar, to abandon the burden of being alone, and to discard the last barrier keeping her scars hidden.

“Angela.”

“Yes?”

“Please stay the night.”

The doctor didn’t reply. She removed her heels, and climbed carefully onto the impossibly small bed. Its less than modest size forced them to snug in together in fear of falling off. Fareeha held the blonde woman in her arms, whose face rested buried in her broad, chiseled chest. There wasn’t another word said before they both drifted asleep.

Fareeha awoke the next morning with a soft and pliable sensation within her reach. She didn’t move, for she was used to sleeping completely still in cramped spaces. Lying next to her was that delicate and defenceless form warm to the touch. Memories from last night coursed back to view. She managed a smile. She noticed how deep she had sunk into this stiff mattress. It no longer bothered her. She slept soundly. No ghosts haunted her every waking moment, no rivers of blood digging at her sanity. Everything was peaceful. She was content, a nostalgic feeling. It wasn’t the high after a good fight, the satisfaction of a job well done, nor the joy of meeting an old friend.

She was just happy.

Angela lightly stretched, like she was used to waking up alone. The moment her elbow hit flesh was the moment memories of the previous day came rushing back. Her eyes ran back up and down the toned arms which held her in place for the night. Her hands clasped in front of her mouth, awkwardly trying to hide a coy smile.

“Good morning, Fareeha.”

“Good morning, doctor.”

They missed a beat.

“I should get back.” Angela backed away toward the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?”

Fareeha reached for the doctor’s wrist. Despite the loose grip, it seemed to have stopped Angela from leaving away for the moment. The blonde turned her head. Her eyes shone with the rays of light peeking through the slits. It was impossible to read.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Did you dislike it, doctor?”

“Truthfully, I haven’t slept so well in a long time.” A long sigh. “But I am your doctor, and you are my patient. I’m glad that you trust me, but this is the farthest it’s going to be.”

Fareeha felt the woman’s hands pulling away from her grip. Angela hastily put her footwear back on and rushed toward the entrance.

“I’ll be back later to check on you.”

Fareeha slowly rolled flat on the bed, arms spread eagle, and stared at the ceiling. She found herself calm after a good night’s sleep. The roaring insecurities have since then been silent, yet remained a tangible sense of dread hanging on her every thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

It was at this moment that images of three barely familiar faces flashed through her mind. Looming dread turned into intense guilt, as Fareeha scrambled for her half-torn shirt by the bedside table. She had been here two days, yet she didn’t possess the slightest geographical clue as to her own surroundings, her mind had unwillingly abandoned the mission, and her focus struggled to distant itself from that gentle warmth which engulfed her the night before.

Before Fareeha could leave, the male nurse from yesterday came into her room, hands holding a bottle of pills and a freshly washed plastic cup.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Hi.”

Fareeha’s attempt at hiding the fact that she was about to storm out of the tent was suspicious at best, but it didn’t seem like the man paid her much mind. He mixed two pills with water, before handing her the cup.

“This is your daily dose.”

She meant to say thanks, but he had already left. It must have been a busy time. After a second to think, she gulped down the medicine, and headed outside.

The blazing sun of Jordan weighed down heavily since the first step. Having lived in Egypt all her life, this heat wasn’t intimidating in the slightest, but it did contrast heavily with her own little world inside that medical tent, an alienating feeling. She had almost forgotten the outside world, absorbed in her recurring nightmares and that one gentle, bright spot in her life. Back to the real world, however, she was surrounded by rows and rows of tents, medical or otherwise. She hadn’t kept up with the news, but it was no secret that a civil war was raging. This must be the refugee camp, she decided.

Hundreds to thousands of locals could be seen weaving in and out of the labyrinth of canvas, mixed with volunteers from whichever global organisation trying their best to contain the panic and despair. Quiet sobbing could be heard in the distance, from those without their wives, their husbands, their children, or anyone else. A massive chain-link fence spanned a mile radius around the camp, with shabbily-dressed and poorly shaven guards patrolling every entrance. Trucks came in and out at a rapid pace, delivering yet more of those displaced by war, and kicking up a mountain of dirt and sand, fogging up her view. Fareeha could feel herself sweating.


	4. Damned

Million of years of evolution resulted in the human eye, a precise and unnecessarily complicated instrument of sight that was tuned to spotting movement, no matter how slight. It was, however, far worse at noticing stationary objects.

Fareeha sat, invisible, at the base of the radio tower.

Hundreds of men, women, and children made their way across her field of vision, each with their own hopes, dreams, and woes. This was a refugee camp, she noted to herself. She hadn’t seen one before, despite being a soldier. Years ago, she used to believe she’ll go to these after the war was over to help with relief efforts, or to get a perspective of the fighting from those who stayed behind. By the time the war was over, the thought of having to break the bad news to relatives of dead comrades got the better of her.

Fareeha didn’t feel the desire to move.

Time passed, as the sun proceeded on its oppressive arc. Thirty-two years she had spent under its shroud, but it didn’t make enduring the heat any easier. If anything, things had gotten worse over the recent years. She could do nothing to change that. She could be inside the tent, resting, but that didn’t feel right. She could exercise, but she didn’t feel calm. There was a strange tingling of agitation following her every trail of thought. It had been plaguing her ever since the beginning of her recovery.

Fareeha continued to sit, legs crossed, peering into the yard.

All of these people were strangers to her. They and she lived mere feet from each other, yet neither party had put the minimum effort to even recognise each other’s existence. They were all nothing more than tiny grains of sand, lost on this field of dirt, waiting for someone else to decide their fates. She thought she was better than this, that she had worked hard enough to break away. Then, as a bead of sweat dropped from her brow and sizzled when it hit the boiling earth, she felt small.

It wasn’t until a guard came by to usher her off that Fareeha moved. It was already late into the night. The air was chilling, caressing her rough, tanned skin at every blow of the wind, from which the t-shirt and trousers she wore would not protect.

The tent was as she had left it, empty and devoid of human warmth. Her agitation from before had grown into a full-blown headache. She desired nothing more than to fade to sleep, but she wanted to stay up. It was but nine in the afternoon. Any minute now, there could be a rustle outside the door, as a slim, shapely contour enter the tent, wearing a tired smile on a pale face. It didn’t happen, as Fareeha’s exhaustion got the better of her.

Nothing had changed by the time she woke up. Dawn had come and gone, as Fareeha found herself in isolation once again. She checked the wounds, to see their improvement slow and inadequate. Frustrating as it was, she of all people knew the importance of proper rest. She wasn’t of much use in this state either, with her body beaten up and her suit destroyed. The only thing she was clinging to was a possible visit from the good doctor, but even that didn’t happen. Was she too busy, or was she too tired? Either way, it was Fareeha who was wallowing alone.

“Good morning.”

A familiar high-pitched voice caught her attention. It was the male nurse from before.

“Morning,” she managed a halfhearted greeting, but he seemed to not mind.

“Your daily medicine.” Two pills mixed with water, as always. “How are your injuries looking?”

“It’s progressing, but not fast enough,” Fareeha said.

“The wounds truly weren’t that bad. Perhaps the trauma of the incident is hampering your ability.”

She thought it over. Something like that never occurred to her, because it sounded impossible. She had been through worse than this before, but each of those times left its own scar. Perhaps it was just the same this time around. She took her medicine.

In this moment, she had the opportunity to observe this man closer. He was very well-groomed and clean-shaven, with a small stature. His skin was dark, but not like the locals. There was a hinge of beige, something more commonly found in a more humid climate. It wasn’t anything strange, however, to see foreigners participating in the relief efforts. It didn’t warrant much curiosity, though the purple highlight strips in his hair did. She thought it fun.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Also, I have some good news for you.” Fareeha craned an eyebrow. “We found someone who could be a colleague of yours. One of our recon groups happened across a lost man in a white lab coat yesterday.”

That could be truly fine news.

“What does he look like?” she asked.

“He’s short, chubby, with a birthmark near the edge of his lips.”

“That’s it, that’s Husani!”

It was easy to tell how ecstatic Fareeha was at the news. She hadn’t been able to perform her responsibilities lately, but it could change, even if only one of her colleague had been found. She hastily grabbed the man’s hand and shook it firmly. She didn’t expect such a soft grip, but in her joy she paid it no mind.

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“He’s being treated in a medical tent at the south edge of the camp.”

“Treated? Is he injured?”

“No, just traumatised. You can check up on him, see if he’s stable.”

“Of course.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she rushed out into the maddening heat outside once again. Four steps later, Fareeha stopped. Swept up, she had forgotten to thank the nurse for his information. Hurrying back, she discovered the tent empty once more. He had disappeared with such speed, she thought, he must’ve been busy. Making a mental note for later, she returned to the task at hand.

Fareeha hadn’t felt this purposeful in so long. Every step further a drumbeat to her heightening of spirit. Perhaps things were finally starting to pick up.

Greeting her by the medical camp was a tall, pig-faced guard. He wore what she could only infer as a defunct private police uniform, the deep green colour gnawed away by time. His expression didn’t change as she came into view: upper lip stiffened, eyes glaring downward.

“What is your business here?” he asked in a groveling voice. “Refugees aren’t allowed here.”

“I’m not a refugee.” Farehea may have experienced fewer bouts of loneliness if she was. “A male nurse told me a man was brought in here last night. He’s my colleague; I’d like to see him.”

The guard stared her down; she stared back. The standstill lasted half a minute, before he finally stepped aside, feet dragged in reluctance. Fareeha stepped forward, and found herself inside before long.

This medical tent were far bigger than hers, with the distinct interior difference of having far more equipment. Defibrillators, breathing masks, shears, forceps, and many more things which she couldn’t identify were scattered about the tables and medical beds. There were traces of dried, and not so dried, blood beneath every step. It looked like the aftermath of a rushed surgery.

There was only one other person present. An injured man in a white lab coat laid on his side, away from the entrance, motionless. Fareeha approached him slowly. She whispered his name, to hear nothing in return. She lightly nudged him, to feel no resistance. She circled around to see his face.

His left eye rolled to the side, looking for the right one which wasn’t there. She touched his face, but could only feel the scalding, burnt skin. His lips curled into a pained smile, only half the muscles working. It contorted until she could no longer bear its haunting aura.

Presently, Fareeha found herself on the ground. There were medical instruments about her, dropped as a table came down. She must have knocked it down when she fell backward. She didn’t remember doing that. There must have been a sound when these equipment hit the ground. She didn’t remember hearing that either.

The guard from the outside rushed in, screaming.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She turned to face him. His face had gotten red with annoyance, but she didn’t remember his features so spaced out. He used to look more plump, she thought. He didn’t look like he had a lazy eye before. His teeth didn’t look like fangs before. His legs didn’t look like they were bent backward before.

Fareeha ran for the door. She couldn’t feel her feet going one after another. Out of the corner of her eye, the sun floated. It was cold, silent, and radiated nothing. She ran past two people. They looked at her, and she looked at them, but their eyes didn’t meet. All she saw was a muted void swallowing the space around it. She turned her head to stare at the ground. There were waves of sand that matched her every step. Her body was experiencing a sinking feeling, as if there were cracks on the ground where her feet were. She ran, fearing that the fissure created by these cracks would eventually catch up to her.

Presently, she found herself back in her tent, blanket over her head, eyes closed. There was no darkness in which she can seek refuge. Colours and shapes filled her mental state. She couldn’t focus. She couldn’t think. She could only wait.

There she was again at the crossroads, flag pole in her hand. Rivers of crimson filled the trenches running across the battlefield in which she found herself. Bodies piled on top of one another, forming a staircase toward the mount at the top of the hills. She ran toward it. Just before she arrived, her feet stopped. It was not her decision. Cold, plying fingers wrapped around her feet. Those hands weren’t connected to any arms, merely crawling themselves backward, and dragging her with them. Fareeha struggled, but this mysterious force which had a handle on her couldn’t be stopped. Hands grabbed at her arms, and shoulder, her neck. They pulled her back, down the hill. She couldn’t fight it any longer. She fell.

Pain coursed through her bruised skin, jolting Fareeha awake. The first thing she saw was the cold, stony ground. It was already dark. She tried to get up, but found her arms restrained by the straight jacket in which she was. She managed to wiggle her way up right, to see the familiar interiors of her medical tent. The bed was right beside her; the messy mattress told her it was where from which she fell. Despite this change, one thing was the same: she was alone.

“Hello?” she bellowed.

There were footsteps.

A nurse entered her room, but she opted to remain at the door. Fareeha didn’t know this person. The nurse said nothing at first, instead opted to stand still and observe the patient’s condition.

“Are you well?” asked the nurse.

Fareeha desperately wanted to say no.

“Yes. Why am I restrained?” she asked, masking her indignation as best as she could.

“A guard reported you being uncooperative this morning. When we came to check on you, you were resisting very heavily. Do you not remember?”

She didn’t.

“I feel fine now.” Another lie. “Can you please get me out of this?”

“Not until we can make sure that your condition is stable. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of staff on hand right now, at this time of night.” The nurse scratched her chin.

“Can you please contact Dr. Ziegler?”

“Unfortunately, she isn’t on site right now. She were part of a recon mission last night and had yet to return.”

Worrying.

“A male nurse knows me. He’s a little short, thin, darker, and had purple highlight in his hair,” Fareeha said.

The nurse looked at her.

“I don’t know anyone like that.”

Fareeha’s first reaction was to scoff at that declaration. Then she thought about it.

“Do you really not?”

“No one in the medical staff matches that description, I’m pretty sure. There aren’t many of us here, so I’d know.” The nurse thought for a moment, and asked. “Do you know his name?”

She bit her lip nervously.


End file.
